


Fragments

by DHW



Series: GrangerSnape100 [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: grangersnape100, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7272784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DHW/pseuds/DHW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a man who lives on the moors. He doesn’t live alone, but with a woman who should have been his wife, and a man who should have been his husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fragments

**Author's Note:**

> **Challenge:** No Dialogue
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters. They belong to JKR. I make no money.

\----

  
  
  
There is a man who lives on the moors. He doesn’t live alone, but with a woman who should have been his wife, and a man who should have been his husband. And he is happy. Just has he tells himself he should be. Happiness is nothing but a state of mind, and Severus has always been clever enough to get by on thought alone.  
  
Night falls, the last of the winter sunlight creeping through the curtains. It is cold outside, and snow begins to fall. He sits by the fire and tells himself everything is fine.  
  
Everything is happy.  
  


\---

  
Hermione tells him that the reward has been raised yet again. He never imagined he could be worth so many galleons. Popularity comes only with infamy, he thinks, just as money comes with death.  
  
She is worried for herself. She is the bright light about to be snuffed out by the angry mob. He holds her close, kissing her head and stroking her curls, telling her everything’s going to be alright.  
  
It’s a lie, and he knows it. If found, she’ll be dead by dawn. They all will.  
  
The Ministry doesn’t like to lose, and Severus knows luck doesn’t last.  
  


\---

  
  
A broadcast has been put out on the wireless, and their faces decorate every surface in the village. It’s disconcerting to walk through the streets only to see your own face staring back at you, a reward scrawled across the bottom of the picture.  
  
The food is running out, and Hermione tells him he needs to buy more. Risk the mob.  
  
He goes in disguise, but still feels exposed. Lucius walks beside him, his blond hair now a dull brown. And he grasps his hand. Afraid.  
  
His fingers are bony and cold, and Severus tells him he should eat more.  
  


\---

  
  
It didn’t used to be like this. Severus remembers when Lucius was cunning and Hermione was quick. He remembers a time before the ‘accident’, back before they were criminals on the run.  
  
He smiles. Though the days and nights blur to one in his head, he knows they were happy.  
  
He remembers the afternoons they used to spend, naked upon satin sheets, learning each other intimately. Curves upon hard planes of flesh, sliding against one another with something that, in time, might just have been love.  
  
His face sours as he thinks of all that was taken away from him.  
  


\---

  
  
They survive the trip into the village that week. And the next. Each time he dons a different disguise, different persona, and goes to buy his groceries like any other man. The price he bears rises with every passing day, the Ministry’s response to his continued carefulness.  
  
It’s the same every week. He always buys the same things. And Hermione always greets him at the door when he returns, her pale arms wrapped around Lucius. She doesn’t hold quite the same appeal as she did when she was a student, but Severus likes to think he’s grown emotionally.  
  
He hasn’t.  
  


\---

  
  
A cold draft blows through the bedroom, chilling their bodies as they writhe beneath the blankets. It doesn’t cool their ardour, only their skin, turning it a mottled blue. They haven’t had sex in months, not since the ‘accident’. Severus had forced it to stay that way, unwilling to drop his guard even for a moment. But like a drip against stone, his resolve erodes away until they’re left hot and panting beneath the covers.  
  
Severus watches Lucius take Hermione with deadly dark eyes and wonders whether it feels the same against cotton sheets. He wonders if they even care.  
  


\---

  
  
Seven months since the ‘accident’. A little red dot on the calendar marks the date. Severus blinks, wondering where all the time went. In his mind, the day is as clear is as glass. As though it happened only yesterday.  
  
He shudders, well aware that Hermione can feel his fear. She is wrapped so tightly around him that she can feel every vibration. It’s hard for her, hiding away like this, just as it is for Lucius. He feels guilty as he realises they know he’s scared.  
  
He is the rock they cling to in the storm. And he’s breaking.  
  


\---

  
  
Sunlight, golden and warm, falls upon the dusty floorboards of the living room. Severus lies in it, soaking up the first rays of summer. The ceiling above him is grey with dirt, a damp patch inhabiting the corner near the door. There is a spider above him, hanging from a silky thread.  
  
Hermione did her best with the house, but there are some things that even magic can’t fix. It’s rotting from the inside out. He wonders just how long they have before it gives up the ghost and collapses around them. Rubble cannot hide them.  
  
He shivers, suddenly cold.  
  


\---

  
  
The lights go out in the middle of the night, plunging them into darkness. Outside, the gravel crunches beneath the feet of some unknown intruder. Severus’ imagination plays tricks on him, and he sees a shadow. An Auror silhouetted in the window.  
  
He jerks backwards, tugging the blanket above his head. Hermione gasps and he puts his hand over her mouth, silencing her. At his back he can feel Lucius trembling.  
  
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knows it’s just a nightmare. But fear overcomes all rational thought. And he tells himself he’s too lucid to be dreaming.  
  


\---

  
  
Lights come back on a few days later, but Severus doesn’t notice. To him, the world has become a dark and terrifying place. Illness creeps through his body, its illusionary tendrils weaving around his heart and mind, making him see things that aren’t there.  
  
Lucius feeds him potions bought from the Apothecary in the village. It’s expensive. They make sacrifices. But, by the fourth day, there’s nothing left to give.  
  
His brow is fevered and his hallucinations continue. He needs a doctor. But no-one save Hermione and Lucius can hear him scream.  
  
They’re all alone out here on the moor.  
  


\---

  
  
Hermione dons her coat and heads for the door, her mind filled with thoughts of sacrifice and charity. Severus is dying, and she can no longer stand to watch him suffer. She has to get him a doctor.  
  
Her hand reaches for the doorknob, but sharp, tanned fingers stop her. She turns to find herself face to face with Lucius. He looks for all the world like an angel, his hair golden in the sunlight. His eyes tell her to stay.  
  
But she can’t. She can hear Severus moaning in the room above, his inner demons becoming a dreadful reality.  
  


\---

  
  
They bribe the doctor. Lucius has lost none of his charm, or his deviousness. And Hermione chose a Muggle to help them. Not out of kindness.  
  
Armed with needles and chemicals, the man enters the first floor bedroom, working hard to rescue a broken body. Severus is conscious, but his mind wanders in unsavoury directions. The doctor grasps his arm, injecting the deathly pale skin with sedatives and other small miracles. And Severus’ vision blurs, the man before him fading until there is nothing left but imagination in a white coat.  
  
Severus is quiet for the first time in days.  
  


\---

  
  
He wakes to the sound of running water. His mind, startlingly clear after such a long period of sickness, begins to work in overdrive, quickly processing the scene before him.  
  
He is in the bathroom.  
  
Hermione is naked, her once peachy skin now grey with stress. He watches with wide eyes as she sinks into the bathtub, the water she displaces flowing over the side of the porcelain tub like a miniature waterfall. Hands, strong and masculine, help him to his feet. He is weak, and fights not to collapse. It is a losing battle and he hits the floor.  
  


\---

  
  
Lucius helps him to his feet again, taking most of his weight as he makes his way to the bath. He is dirty; his hair is slick with grease, and his skin still holds the scent of sickness. Of weakness.  
  
Gritting his teeth, he works his stiff muscles hard, stripping from his pyjamas and clambering into the bath. The water is so hot it almost burns his skin.  
  
He leans back against Hermione, her arms holding him tight to her chest as though she is afraid to lose him. Lucius joins them and they sit together until the water cools.  
  


\---

  
  
Summer slips away into autumn, the leaves turning to gold before his very eyes. It takes him forever to regain his physical strength. It’s frustrating having to take things a day at a time, but he knows there is no other way. He can’t seek help. And even if he could, they couldn’t afford it. The money is running out as it is and he doubts they will make another winter. Something has to change.  
  
He keeps his thoughts to himself and picks up the Sunday paper, his mind focused on the classifieds, knowing Hermione and Lucius would not approve.  
  


\---

  
  
It takes a while to find the perfect job, but, when he does, his excitement bubbles and he feels fit to burst. They have just enough money to see them to the end of the month. It could not have come at a better time.  
  
The night he tells them, there are fireworks.  
  
Hermione is predicable in her response, and launches a book at his head. He ducks, the missile just glancing his shoulder. Lucius says nothing and does nothing. But his eyes shine with something Severus hasn’t seen in over a year.  
  
It disturbs him and he sleeps alone.  
  


\---

  
  
By the time the job begins, he is back in their bed, his grievances forgotten. Nerves prevent him from sleeping, deadly little scenarios playing round his head like old fashioned celluloid film.  
  
His disguise is deceptively simple. Just a charm. He hopes that will be enough to deceive the Ministry. The price on his head alone has reached an inordinate amount. To find him is the equivalent of winning the lottery. He shudders as he grabs his coat from the hook.  
  
Hermione kisses him goodbye, as does Lucius, and he wonders if they’ll still be there when he comes home.  
  


\---

  
  
His first day goes without a hitch and he comes home, cash in hand, to a relieved Hermione and Lucius.  
  
They celebrate his success the only way they can, their bodies saying more than words ever could. Lucius lets him have first dibs on Hermione tonight, and he revels in the feel of her soft skin sliding against his. Behind him, Lucius presses soft kisses to his back and neck. It’s like his own little piece of heaven, healing the cracks that have appeared in his soul. It’s the first time since the ‘accident’ he’s felt truly happy.  
  
He smiles.  
  


\---

  
  
Hermione is the next to find work. On his instruction, she too charms her appearance, the tiny change making all the difference in the world. She worries that it’s not enough, but he simply kisses her and lies. He doesn’t like it when she worries. It makes him nervous.  
  
Lucius stays at home, guarding the only thing they have left save each other. Severus shudders as he thinks of how hard he’s fallen; the once proud man is now too afraid to leave the relative safety of bricks and mortar. It makes his eyes damp, though he does not cry.  
  


\---

  
  
Things get better for a while. They regain a sense of almost-normality. Money comes in to be replaced by food and other necessities, and they learn to cope with the way things are. Scrimping and saving. The days come and go, bringing with them nothing more than a new sun. Nothing changes except the passage of time and the price placed upon their heads.  
  
But he still has nightmares about the ‘accident’, and he wakes in a cold sweat. Hermione asks him what’s wrong, but he won’t tell her. He keeps his cards close to his chest, like everything else.  
  


\---

  
  
Christmas approaches, but this year, like the last, there will be no celebrations. No tree in the living room, and no stockings by the fireplace. There will only be misery, and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.  
  
Severus sits nursing a glass filled with something stronger than water, letting his mind wander. His thoughts meander along a path he treads so often, ending up at that fateful day. He can see Hermione’s face, the horror etched into the lines on her skin illuminated by a sickly green flash. He can see Lucius in the flurry of robes.  
  


\---

  
  
The scent of burnt toast wafts through the house on a tide of black smoke, rousing him from a nightmare. The bed is empty and cold. Severus rises, his nightshirt clinging to his sweat-soaked skin. He can hear cursing from the floor below; Hermione’s voice carries so well through the wooden flooring.  
  
Lucius has been cooking again.  
  
He tries to smile, but his lips seem to have forgotten how, his expression becoming more like a grimace. There has been so little to smile about, and it seems that his body can only express happiness post-coitus now.  
  
He’s lost so much.  
  


\---

  
  
On Christmas day, Hermione gets careless and goes to shovel the snow from the driveway without the charm. By night they suffer from mob psychology, the house surrounded by flaming torches and angry villagers hoping to win the criminal lottery.  
  
Severus watches with tired eyes, awaiting the inevitable. He kisses Hermione just as he kisses Lucius, his lips and tongue chasing away the last of his humanity. He feels loved for the first time in his life.  
  
They link hands, long fingers and short lacing tightly, their owners afraid to let go. And they step outside to face their demons.


End file.
